He slowly mounted into his saddle, very slowly gathered his heavy hunting-crop that hung hitched to the holster; then, as quick as lightning, he hit out with the heavy handle, trusting to strike the girl on the head and bring her down before she could fire. Minnie started backward, and, to her horror, the jerk of her movement, although it saved her life from the blow, exploded the pistol. Now, defenceless, she prepared to fly, but the man’s laugh of triumph was broken by a horrid scream of pain from his horse. The ball had struck it high on the neck and the great brute reared up and became unmanageable. So sudden was the action that Merle came off. A second more and he would have rolled into safety; but, at the moment of his collapse, even as he fell, the frantic creature kicked out and a steel-plated hoof, with the strength of a flying chain-shot, crashed into his head behind the ear and cut away half his skull. Under the moon oozed forth the brains that had plotted Minnie’s death, and she turned shuddering, while the great horse, with a cry almost human, galloped into the night. Bassett lived, as Minnie soon discovered. His wound still bled, but she tore her linen, stanched the flow and supported him upon the way until his strength gave out again and he sank down upon the Moor, while she fled forward for succour. * * * The name of Bassett warms Devon hearts to-day, and it was the generation that followed Elias that wrote their worthy patronymic large upon the earth and blazoned it in history. Yet the sons of Minnie, and her grandsons and great-grandsons, loved best in their annals that tragedy of the highwayman, their mother’s cousin—Young Nick, as he is called—and the story of his efforts to prevent them from coming into the world by sending their mother out of it. They have waxed high in the land, and men have blessed them; yet their joy in Sir Elias Bassett, Lord Moreton, is not greater than that they take in plain Elias, the statesman’s grandfather. Men made a riddle about Minnie Merle and her grave—a jest that sets three generations laughing; but of late this joke has hidden within the pages of old, curious journals. There, indeed, many such-like strange matters shall be met with. Long they lie forgotten, buried in an ancient chronicle, tombed for centuries under the lumber of a muniment chest, until bidden to rise and live again. JONAS AND DINAH {167} CHAPTER I “I publish the banns of marriage between Jonas Lethbridge, bachelor, and Dinah Mary Hannaford, spinster, both of this parish. If any of you know cause, or just impediment, why these two persons should not be joined together in holy matrimony, ye are to declare it. This is for the first time of asking.” A pleasant rustle ran through the little congregation—an amiable and friendly sound. Jonas and Dinah sat together through the ordeal of the banns, and, out of sight, he squeezed her hand to support her.